


Second Chances

by Rhoda_Writes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7073494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhoda_Writes/pseuds/Rhoda_Writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Expansion / reimagining of that post-credits scene in Civil War. MUCH SPOILERS. Bucky's about to go into cryofreeze again, and is struggling with guilt, fear, and his feelings for Steve. Natasha gives him a pep talk on all three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> FYI, I've only seen Civil War once so far, so I'm probably getting some details wrong. I tried to get as much right as I could from the clips and summaries if I couldn't remember. Also, in my head-canon, Steve and Bucky are in love, but cannot spit it out. However, Natasha knows everything and totally ships it.

T'Challa's facility was supposed to be secure. "You'll be safe here," Steve kept assuring them. "No one knows about this place. We're off the grid." But Bucky had been off the grid before. Not like this, but there was always a chance someone would be able to track them down. He wasn't worried about being found. He just didn't want to let Steve down. Not again. He'd done way too much for Bucky already.

Of course, Steve was adaptable. He'd settled into this bright, chaotic future so smoothly. He had his awkward moments, but for the most part, he rolled with it. He kept going. That was the thing about Steve--he didn't care how impossible a situation was. He accepted what he could see, and changed his perspective when the landscape changed around him. He also never gave up. It was the only reason Bucky was still alive, breathing in the humid air of this wild, hidden place instead of awaiting his own execution. No matter how many times he slid towards death, Steve was always there to bring him back. Then again, Steve had gotten to keep his mind. Bucky hadn't.

This last time had been the hardest. He was starting to remember things. Not all at once--just flashes. Disconnected scenes from a nightmare he couldn't quite remember. There was always blood, and screaming. Faces surrounded him at night. Some of them begged for mercy. Some stared in awestruck terror. Sometimes they glared with outright hatred, silently damning him for what he was about to do.

The worst part was coming out of his brainwashing just long enough for Steve to find him again, then getting captured. Being strapped into that glass cage, and watching Zemo take out the red book. Zemo said, "Longing," and something in Bucky snapped. It was the first time he'd been triggered and known what was happening. Zemo was going to turn him back into that creature they called the Winter Soldier. He was going to make him kill Steve. And there was nothing Bucky could do to stop it.

How Steve managed to drag him back to himself and even forgive him for everything he'd done--it was a miracle. That had been the longest and worst day of his life. He didn't want to remember that one either. He wanted to start over. Wipe everything out and begin again, here in this jungle, away from the cold and the metal that had been his home for so many years. "Off the grid."

Romanoff found them in less than a week.

After a brief security scan, T'Challa's people let her cross the threshold. Bucky watched from a hallway carved into the mountain. Had she forgiven him too? He'd shot her a couple times, and tried to choke her once. She had still helped them in the end. Bucky didn't know much about Romanoff except what Steve had told him: that she had once been an assassin, and turned back to the good side. She was stunning, naturally--and deadly, being one of the few people who had ever walked away from the Winter Soldier alive. But today she wasn't outfitted for combat. She wore a simple off-white blouse paired with khakis and hiking boots. She looked like the starlets in the old adventure reels Bucky and Steve had watched as kids.

She headed for Bucky when she saw him, and smiled. "Hello, Barnes."

Bucky nodded politely and muttered, "Ma'am."

She arched a perfect eyebrow in amusement. "You boys and your manners. Is Rogers around? I thought you two were joined at the hip these days."

"Checking the cryofreeze chamber," said Bucky. "I know T'Challa's people have it up to scratch, but he wanted to see it himself."

"Well, he's very protective of you. I can't say I blame him, all things considered."

They walked as they talked, with Bucky leading the way through the vast stronghold. Bucky had only seen the room with the cryo chamber once, but one of the few positive side-effects of his conditioning was an infallible sense of direction. He was hardwired to notice every curve, every turn, every shift in height and temperature. He never got lost anymore.

"It's funny," said Bucky. "It used to be the other way around. When we were kids, I was always the one protecting him."

"What was he like?" asked Romanoff.

Bucky shrugged. Where could he begin? Steve wasn't someone you could sum up in a few headlines. Every memory he had left--the ones that mattered, the ones he wanted to keep--featured Steve in some way. Their lives had been wrapped around each other so long, he couldn't tell where his ended and Steve's began.

Aloud, he said, "Stubborn. Idealistic. He wanted to make the world a better place. And he never backed down from a fight, not even when he knew he'd lose. He got banged up in pretty much every alley in Brooklyn."

Romanoff laughed. "It's hard to imagine Rogers losing a street fight."

"Well he did--a lot. That's why I started taking boxing lessons after school. Once I was strong enough to hold my own, I could step in and keep him from getting hurt too bad."

"And falling for him. Did that happen before or after the boxing lessons?"

Bucky whirled towards her. He stopped himself in time, clenching his good hand at his side, but he had to freeze in place. His heart jack-hammered against his ribcage. His face and lungs felt hot. He hadn't heard her right, surely? Was she joking? He still didn't know her very well.

But Romanoff's expression was empty of malice or mockery. She was simply stating an observation. Seeing his panic, she quickly said, "Don't worry, I can keep a secret."

When he could breathe again, Bucky said, "Steve can't know. Not ever." His voice came out choked and rough. Steve was too important to him. He couldn't let something like this come between them. He needed his best friend back, even if that was all Steve would ever be for him--a friend.

Romanoff scrutinized him thoughtfully. Her soft green eyes were both penetrating and impossible to read. No wonder she was such a good spy. When she didn't want you to, there was no way to guess what she was thinking.

"Okay," she said gently. "But I think he might surprise you." She glanced pointedly down the hallway. Bucky took the hint and continued leading the way.

Maybe she was right, but Bucky couldn't afford to think that way. What could he do? He was about to go back into cryofreeze, he didn't know for how long. His mind was already too tangled to throw in yet another crisis to solve.

The tunnel opened up into a large, hollow room that housed T'Challa's state of the art technology. The cryo chamber stood in the center, clean and shining, surrounded by a bustle of people checking readings and entering information on those thin, computerized slabs--What had Steve called them? Tablets? There was a lot he needed to catch up on. Steve had promised to help him. But even that would have to wait.

Steve stood amidst T'Challa's workers, asking questions and looking over the readings. Doing his part to make sure it all went smoothly.

They reached the edge of the tunnel, and Bucky stopped. Romanoff started into the chamber, but paused at the entrance when she saw he wasn't coming with her.

"Barnes?" she asked. "You okay?"

"It's just. . ." Bucky hesitated. He gestured vaguely to the chamber and everything it contained. "I know it's going to be different this time, but. . ." He couldn't finish.

Romanoff's expression softened. "I know. From one ex-bad guy to another though? It does get easier. I promise."

Bucky wondered if she still had nightmares. If she could remember every face of every person she'd ever killed, along with the names they belonged to. Bucky would give anything to erase those memories. Unfortunately, there was no way to separate them out from the good ones. That moment in the helicarrier, when Steve had kept saying his name, and refused to fight him. That was one of Bucky's favorite memories now. It was . . . complicated. Because it felt like a dream that was both too perfect and too awful at the same time. The monster inside Bucky was trying to kill the person he loved most in the world. But Bucky--the _real_ Bucky--was starting to see clearly for the first time in decades. And through it all there was Steve, promising to stay with him no matter what. Till the end of the line. He wouldn't want to lose that.

"How long until you felt normal again?" he asked Romanoff.

She shrugged. "Normal's relative, Barnes."

"Well how long until you felt like you again?"

"Mm. Any day now." She smiled sadly. "Look: I could give you a string of statistics about PTSD, guilt, flashbacks, paranoia, more guilt--all those lovely head games you have to look forward to. I won't lie--it's not fun. You've got some heavy lifting ahead of you. But you'll get through it. The truth is, all you really need is someone who believes in you." She nodded towards Steve, who had noticed them and was coming up to the tunnel entrance. "He does. And for what it's worth, so do I."

The sincerity rang in her voice. She wanted him to know she meant it.

Steve finally joined them at the doorway. "Natasha," he said. "This is a surprise. Not that it's not a pleasure too see you, but I thought this location was secure."

"Oh, you know me," said Romanoff with a sly grin.

"I'm starting to. In all seriousness, should we be worried?"

"Not yet. There are a lot of people looking for you, but we're feeding them false trails. Officially, I'm chasing a lead off the coast of New Zealand right now."

Steve nodded. "And unofficially?"

Romanoff's tough, jovial mask slipped for a fraction of a second. "Thor made contact. He has some information about the Infinity Stones. I figured you'd want to be in the loop."

"I see. Thank you."

Bucky hung back from the conversation. It was times like these--when Steve started talking shop with his new soldiers, the enhanced humans who hadn't even been born yet when the Howling Commandos had been doing battle with Hydra--that he felt his own isolation most keenly. Steve did what he could to make Bucky feel included, but too many of the others still distrusted him. More importantly, there was so much he'd missed. He had no idea what an Infinity Stone was, or why they were important. Was it a power source? A rare type of currency? Some kind of otherworldy tech? Maybe a combination of all three? Steve kept saying he'd "explain it all later." Everything had to wait for later. In the meantime, Bucky tried not to dwell on how little anyone here even needed him.

One of T'Challa's people came over. "If you're ready, Sergeant Barnes, we can go ahead and get you prepped."

Bucky nodded. "I'm ready."

Steve told Romanoff to wait for him--he wanted to see Bucky through the rest of this process. Then they would talk about the Infinity Stones.

Romanoff reached out and squeezed Bucky's hand as they turned to leave. "I know it's none of my business," she said. "But think about what I said."

Bucky nodded stiffly. He wasn't angry with her. She genuinely wanted to help. But there was no way to have this conversation out in the open. "I will," he promised. "And thank you."

She smiled. "Anytime. Sleep tight, soldier."

After watching their exchange with some confusion, Steve followed into the prep room. Bucky would've normally objected to his hovering, but he was grateful for the company. T'Challa was a great man, worthy of being a leader. The fact that he'd listened and forgiven Bucky for all his crimes, even to the point of offering him this place as shelter, spoke to his wisdom and courage. But Bucky didn't _know_ him or his people. Steve was a familiar face. He was safe. Like home. Steve knew it too, and made sure that the--Doctor? Scientist? Soldier? Bucky wasn't sure of her exact role here--understood that he wasn't questioning her abilities, only reassuring his friend.

When she left to start up the machine, Steve sighed as if a great boulder had just rolled off his shoulders. He looked at Bucky. They were alone now.

"Are you sure about this?" Steve asked.

"I can't trust my own mind," said Bucky. "So until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back under's the best thing. For everybody."

They both knew he was right. It didn't change how hard this was going to be. Bucky hated having to leave so soon after they'd found each other again. But as long as his conditioning was intact, someone could dig it up again, and make him hurt people. They'd both seen up close just how badly wrong things could go if they weren't careful. Bucky hated that idea more. Knowing Steve would be here to watch over him, at least sometimes, helped. A little.

Steve took in his decision, and bowed his head. He gave the smallest nod. This was hurting him too. Bucky couldn't imagine what it must've been like for him. He'd seen Bucky fall. Been sure he was dead. If their places had been changed, Bucky didn't know what he would have done.

Suddenly--insanely--he wanted to tell him. He could feel the words bubbling up in his throat. This was the time--here, now, with just the two of them. He had to say it now, or he wouldn't get another chance for weeks, months, maybe years.

He'd come close once. After Steve had rescued them from Hydra the first time, when he was pitching his plan to the not-yet-named Howling Commandos, Bucky had tucked himself into a separate corner. He had downed God knew how many pints of alcohol to steel himself for his confession. When Steve had come back, he asked if Bucky was ready to follow Captain America--the icon, the super hero--into battle.

"Hell no," had been Bucky's answer. "That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb to run away from a fight. I'm following him."

He'd experienced the same surge of certainty then, that _this_ was the time. Maybe it was the booze, or the afterglow of a battle well fought, but he'd been ready.

Then Agent Carter had walked in. All heads had turned to stare. She had played the moment flawlessly: the red dress, the thick waves in her hair, just the right gleam of white skin. She was a lantern in the smokey haze of the bar. And she only had eyes for Steve. The feeling was mutual. The way they both had looked at each other, as if no one else was even in the room, let alone watching and listening--it was like a magic spell. Time itself had stopped around them. Bucky had tried to distract her, but even then he'd known it was useless.

This time was different. Peggy Carter was gone. Steve had loved her, but she had moved on in his absence. Bucky knew Steve wanted to move on, too. No one was watching them here. No one would interrupt, overhear, or cast judgement. In a way, that made it even harder.

"Steve," Bucky started, and faltered immediately. He sucked in his breath and shifted his gaze to the floor.

The other man rushed toward him. He laid a hand on Bucky's good arm. "I'm here, Buck," he said. "I'm here." His face, when Bucky raised his to look, was open. Gentle. He was listening.

How long would it be before he had another chance, he wondered? Either way, he'd be carrying a new memory into that frozen coffin. Would it be another nightmare, or something better? _Just say it,_ he scolded himself. But if this went badly. . . If Steve never looked at him that way again. . . _Dammit._

Bucky breathed. He just couldn't. So instead, he said, "Will you be here when I wake up?"

It was so strange, but Steve's expression . . . shifted. Almost like he was disappointed. Outwardly, he smiled and said, "I wouldn't miss it."

"You might be waiting a long time," Bucky warned him.

"Ah well. I waited more than seventy years to find you again. What's a few more?"

Bucky laughed softly. He was painfully aware of Steve's hand on his arm still, with the thumb moving slowly back and forth over the skin. _I think he might surprise you,_ Romanoff said. What had Steve expected him to say?

"A long time ago," said Steve, "Peggy asked me why I never learned how to dance. I told her I was waiting for the right partner."

Bucky held his breath. Where was he going with this?

"The truth is I already had one. It just took me this long to figure it out. And Bucky, whatever happens in there today, I'm never going to leave you behind again."

Bucky barely let him finish. He snatched a fistful of Steve's t-shirt and pulled him down until their mouths crashed together. The kiss was hungry, almost violent. But Steve wrapped both hands around Bucky's face and softened it into something deep, true, and way too long coming. Bucky had never wished so badly for his left arm. He wanted to hold and touch him with both hands, and he couldn't. Even with his destroyed metal arm, he wouldn't have been able to feel anything. He drank in the moment anyway, sliding his good hand around the back of Steve's neck and stroking the feather-soft hair at the back. He had to remember this, and keep it with him in the dark for as long as it took.

The doctor/scientist/soldier had the decency to knock before coming back into the room. They broke apart quickly, but Steve kept a hand on his shoulder.

"Everything's ready," said the worker. "Is there anything else you need before you go in?"

It took Bucky a moment to understand her words. His head was spinning. Was he already dreaming again? Then he looked at Steve, at his slightly flushed face and the tenderness reflected there. "No," he said. "I have everything I need."

THE END.


End file.
